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wander-over-the-words · 6 months

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BioFluff Week 2023 Fic #2

Title: Close Encounters of the Rapture Kind

Prompt: Monsters/Costumes

Summary: The one where the Big Daddy and Big Sister suits come in handy, and Eleanor’s going to her first Halloween party, for which there are some ground rules.

Characters: Subject Delta, Augustus Sinclair, Eleanor Lamb; mentions of Little Sisters, Billy Parson, Big Daddies, Big Sisters, Splicers, Sofia Lamb.

Pairing: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta, with some family fluff with Eleanor.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and physical assault.

Notes: Second submission for a new BioFluff Week! Here’s the response to the prompt ‘Costumes’! Realistically, I’d imagine Delta would’ve been long-since cured by the time Halloween comes around, but fuck it, I like this idea. Happy Halloween!

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

“I remember this Sinclair guy from when I was a kid,” one woman says to the other, frowning lightly as they lead their children through the iron gates of the most expensive and lavish house in town, which currently has three HAPPY HALLOWEEN banners strung up above the doors and across the outer fence on either side of the gates.

“He never used to open his gates to anybody who wasn’t givin’ him cash. He used ta sit on his porch and smoke sometimes, but other’n that, he’d just pop up in town every so often and then disappear again back into his house. Used to give me the creeps, him and this place. No idea why he’d be entertainin’ trick-or-treaters now…”

“Didn’t he go missin’ some time ago?” says her companion, holding her own child by the hand as they walk down the path toward the house.

“Yeah, ‘bout twenty years ago or so. My ma thought she was hallucinatin’ when she saw him in the street the other day, with that girl by his side.”

“Well, there ya go: he’s got a child now. Bet she’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger an’ asked him to open the doors to trick-or-treaters this year, so he has. Just had a change of heart, is all.”

The first woman hums, clearly holding no hope for Sinclair’s character, but keeps it to herself as the four of them climb the steps, up onto the porch that they used to see Sinclair sitting upon as kids.

There’s a sense of trepidation in the air; Augustus Sinclair was considered more-or-less an oddity to the people in town at best, since he hardly interacted with anybody who wasn’t a client or staff (either his own or the ones working at the shops in town, during the times he’d magically pop up). The older folk in town knew him better; they would say he was a horrible man and would tell true stories of how he screwed good people over with that ‘fancy law degree’ of his, no sense of morality or empathy to him. Just before he disappeared, he abruptly fired his entire house staff, uncaring how much they were relying on his money or not.

Meanwhile, the kids would share theories of what he got up to in that big house, ranging from being some secret serial killer to actually being a ghost. Made him seem so much scarier during the times he’d appear in town, the suspected murderer or spirit being so much closer to them.

Now, here they are. On his porch. Previously forbidden land. Like something from a legend.

They share a look, then shake their heads at themselves, feeling silly, and then the second woman encourages her daughter to knock at the doors.

The little sugar plum fairy toddles up and knocks the hardest she can.

It takes a few moments, but then there comes a thump-thump-thump from behind the doors, like large boots hitting wood, and then the doors open, and the two women feel their faces pale as they look upwards.

“Oh, wow!” exclaims the first woman’s son, dressed up in a cardboard costume to look like a robot.

The little girl gasps, then grins and exclaims, “I love your costume!”

The large diving suit figure stares back silently, yellow-glowing porthole pointed at them all, and does nothing as he simply stands there, bowl of sweets in his hands - hands so big, they look like they could crush the four of their skulls in one fist, which only serves to make the women’s faces pale more.

“M-Mr. Sinclair?” one of them stammers.

“Nope,” comes from beside the doorway, and Augustus Sinclair pops his head into view before stepping forward to stand beside his…friend, “that’d be me. Evenin’, now. Happy Halloween an’ all that.”

“Uh…who’s…?” the second woman says, slowly pointing at the…person before them.

“Hm? Oh.” Sinclair looks up at them, then pats their arm. “This here is Delta. He takes the holiday all seriously, as you can see. He’s, ah, dressed as a haunted divin’ suit.”

Finally, ‘Delta’ moves: he turns at the waist to look at Sinclair, then looks back at the two women and lets out a little grunting noise.

“Uh - the, ah, helmet blocks his speech, ya see, heh,” Sinclair quickly says. “I’m his little helper for the evenin’, just here to play translator. Ha - I told him this costume was gonna be a pain in the neck ta greet trick-or-treaters with, but he don’t listen ta me, hehe. Like I said before: he jus’ loves this holiday.”

He looks down at their children and hastily changes the topic, clasping his hands together.

“But here I am, gabbin’ - I’m sure your little ones are just itchin’ for some of that candy they’ve been promised.”

He nudges Delta with his elbow.

“Go ahead, chief.”

Delta looks at Sinclair, then tilts himself forwards at the waist to look down at the children. His shoulders lifting upwards, he lets out some…noise that - call them crazy - sounds like whalesong, and Sinclair flashes them a grin, even while the women’s eyes widen.

“Aw, he’s just sayin’ that he likes the looks of your costumes,” he says, and the women can only wonder how the hell he knows that.

“Thank you!” says the little girl, curtseying to Delta in her little pink tutu, which prompts another one of those strange noises from him.

Carefully, Delta lowers himself down to one knee, and even when he’s kneeling like that, he looks huge compared to the rest of them, thanks to how thick his body is, seemingly all muscle even when the suit is a little baggy.

It does nothing to calm the ladies’s opinions of him; they continue to stare at him like they’re worried he’ll drag them into the house and prove those childhood theories about Sinclair being a murderer correct.

However, he doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, he just innocently holds out the bowl of sweets to the children, who, surprisingly, ignore it in favour of descending upon him.

The little robot boy boldly goes over to poke at Delta’s bicep and tug on his sleeve, coming over so quick that Sinclair takes a small step back to keep the kid from entering his personal bubble, while the little girl is staring, fascinated, at Delta’s left hand. After a moment, she reaches out to touch his finger, and Delta passes the bowl to his right hand so that he can offer his left one to her for her to get a proper look at it.

The women look like they don’t know what to do with themselves; it’s obviously not appropriate for their children to just go poking at a stranger like this, but he doesn’t even seem to care that they’re doing that, and to be honest, this…’Delta’ is giving them the creeps.

“Uh - honey,” the first woman tries to say to her son, but Sinclair holds up a hand to stop her.

“Aw, now, it’s alright. He doesn’t mind a little curiosity.”

“Are you a robot?” the little boy asks Delta, tilting himself to look at Delta’s porthole from where he stands by Delta’s side.

“No, no,” Sinclair says in his place, “there’s a man under there - flesh ‘n’ blood, like you an’ me.”

“Are you really super tall,” the girl asks, then, “or do you got stilts on?”

“Ah.” Sinclair holds up a finger. “‘Fraid we can’t tell you that, little lady. Trade secret.”

The boy raps his knuckle against the bottom of Delta’s helmet, testing the material that it’s made from, and gawks when he realises it’s real metal and not something like painted papier mâché.

“Is that helmet really heavy?” the boy asks. “You must be really strong!”

“Oh,” Sinclair chuckles, “trust me, son, he is. Could lift a car with those big ol’ arms o’ his.”

“Where did you get your costume?” the girls says, undeterred by the lack of a proper answer to her last question.

“Uh,” Sinclair’s smile turns slightly awkward, “I, ah…I know a guy. He, uh, made it an’...I paid for it all.”

“What’re these?” the boy then asks, tilting himself the other way now to look at Delta’s back, pointing.

“Those’re oxygen tanks, son - so’s he can breathe.”

“But what about those ones?” the boy adds, pointing now specifically to the glass tubes that contain some kind of gooey liquids that glow red and blue.

“Oh. Uh.” Sinclair’s smile falters, then he picks it back up, if a little uncomfortable-looking now. “That’s his, uhh…ectoplasm - s-since he’s a haunted divin’ suit and all.”

Coming back around to stand in front of Delta, the boy looks over at his left arm to follow the tube of blue going into Delta’s wrist; Sinclair watches the kid like he’s worried the boy’s going to ask another question about that ‘ectoplasm’, but when the kid doesn’t, the tension leaves Sinclair’s body and he subtly gives a sigh of relief.

The little girl is still investigating Delta’s hand. She pats at the rings on his gloved fingers, then moves around to stand beside him so that she can press her hand to his, the bottoms of their palms matching up, and she breathes a soft “Wow…!” at how much bigger Delta’s hand is compared to hers. She then moves back around to stand in front of him and takes hold of Delta’s finger in the entirety of her little hand, squeezing it and tugging on it to test Sinclair’s answer that Delta really is human and not some spectacular machine he’s programmed. When she evidently feels flesh and not metal or wires, she gasps and turns to her mother.

“Momma,” she calls, “I wanna dress like this next year!”

“Me too, me too!” the boy exclaims quickly.

The women look only more nervous, and Sinclair barks out a laugh before nudging Delta’s shoulder.

“Why, do ya hear that, chief?” he says. “You went an’ got yourself a coupla little fans here.”

Delta lets out a long note of that…whalesong he seems to be talking in (what kind of helmet is he wearing that reduces his speech to that?), before he holds out the bowl of sweets again, giving it a little shake.

“He’s askin’ if y’all wanna grab your candy now,” Sinclair says. “Go on, now - one a piece.”

The kids look at him like they forgot that was why they came here at all, then both rush to the bowl Delta’s holding out between them, each taking a stripey lollipop from the collection in there with words of thanks, grinning at Delta as he comes off of his knee and gets back up to full height. The kids only just grace his knees.

Just as the children are getting fascinated with Delta all over again, their mothers start ushering them off the porch, telling them there’re still plenty of houses to visit, and so the kids wave goodbye to Delta and Sinclair.

Sinclair wiggles his fingers in a goodbye wave, while Delta waves goodbye to match them, which just delights the kids; they’re grinning and giggling all the way up the path.

“He’s neat,” the boy says to his mother.

“I like him!” the girl exclaims. “He’s pretty!”

Their mothers, on the other hand, are still the picture of nerves as the second leans over to the first and hisses, “I thought you said he just had a daughter?”

“I have,” the first says, “no idea who that was.”

Behind them, the doors to Sinclair’s home are shut - and now that they are, Sinclair grins up at Delta as Delta lets out a long crooning noise, his own version of cheering.

“What’d I tell you, kid?” Sinclair says, hands on his hips. “I knew they wouldn’t be able ta tell you ain’t jus’ wearin’ a costume! I reckon we mighta just found a day where you can blend in!”

Leaning down to put the bowl of sweets on the nearby low windowsill, Delta’s crooning again, his shoulders perked up high in his symbolism for happiness.

His first human contact since arriving on the surface, outside of fellow Rapture survivors, had gone off without a hitch! He’d been worried that his appearance would be frightening for the kids - the Little Sisters only loved him, after all, because they were designed to - and he does feel a little bad for scaring their mothers like that, but they’d liked him! They’d really liked him! Reminds him of finding that one audio tape in Dionysus Park made by that little boy, Billy, who thought the ‘yellow-eyed girl’s’ dad was ‘strong and nice’.

He doesn’t doubt that there may still be some kids who might find him scary, but for now, he can bask in the feeling of having interacted with people outside of his loved ones.

Of course, he adores Augustus and Eleanor, and they’ll always be his favourite people, but…it’s nice, to be able to show his (albeit covered) face to other people. Makes him feel a little less like some freak they have to hide behind closed doors.

Delta reaches out and throws an arm around Sinclair, bringing him in for a grateful, overjoyed hug, and Sinclair nearly stumbles with how suddenly he’s brought in, then ends up laughing into Delta’s chest and hugs him back the best he can with their size difference.

Delta squeezes him as gently as he can without harming him, then pulls back to point toward the doors with his free hand, uses the same finger to tap the corner of Sinclair’s lips, then briefly struggles to think of how to communicate his message before he gives an awkward thumbs up.

Luckily, Sinclair understands what he’s going for.

“Aw, now, ain’t that sweet? You think nothin’ of it, honey,” Sinclair replies. “I’m happy ta play translator for ya - not like I got anythin’ in particular to do tonight, anyhow. Though - those kids were gettin’ a little too talkative for my tastes. It’s probably best for me ta talk to the grown-ups, make sure they know you only look a little scary, such is the theme. They ain’t had the experience of takin’ a train ride with you, now, have they?”

Delta croons, still delighted by how this has all turned out, and gives Sinclair another squeeze before letting him go, feeling Sinclair pat his side and pull back from the hug.

“Now, you just watch, chief,” Sinclair says, starting to turn around, looking over his shoulder at Delta and oblivious to the footsteps coming down the stairs, “cause I’m bettin’ that this time next year, you’re gonna have every child in town dressed as little Big Daddies. A-heh. Suppose that’d mean we’d call ‘em ‘Little Daddies’, now wouldn’t we?”

He chuckles at his own joke, earning a laugh from Delta, and then turns his head to look in the direction he’s intending to walk - only to come face-to-face with a Big Sister.

Instinctively, Sinclair scrambles backwards, letting out a burst of a panicked shout and reaching for Delta - which has Delta lurching toward him to protect him, purely instinctual too - before Sinclair’s brain catches up to the situation, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to block off anymore sound. The same hand goes down to his heart a millisecond later, before he fixes the Big Sister with a stern look.

“Now, I thought we mentioned not wearin’ the helmet when you’re home?” he says. “Break the rule if you want, but you’re responsible for the heart attack I get.”

Delta gives him a sympathetic little pat on the back, crooning to him softly to try and be comforting, as the Big Sister reaches up with both hands and pulls her helmet off.

“Sorry,” Eleanor says, hugging the helmet to her chest with one arm while moving strands of her hair out of her face with the other hand, smiling sheepishly. “I just heard the trick-or-treaters and got so excited.”

She looks up at Delta brightly.

“How did it go, Father?”

Shoulders rising higher than ever, Delta lets out a long croon of excitement, clasping his hands together with a fondness.

“Aw, those kids had no idea that that wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill Halloween costume!” Sinclair exclaims, grinning up at Delta, all panic from before dissipating in a moment as he’s overcome by pride and secondhand excitement. “Even went an’ got called pretty by that little girl out there! They just loved him.”

Delta lets out another delighted note of whalesong.

Eleanor reaches out to touch his arm.

“That’s fantastic, Father! I’m so happy for you,” she says. “Your first contact with the outside world! And it’ll only get better once we remove you from your suit, and then,” she grins, “you can come outside with Augustus and me and you can see the entire town, as we have!”

Delta looks as though he could explode from the excitement, the way his body language starts to bunch up, and Sinclair chuckles and pats him on the chest.

“Sure, but if that’s the case, then we’re just goin’ ta hafta hope you’re still beefy enough to carry this here suit on your back. Otherwise, once Halloween comes back around, we’ll have to find somethin’ else for you ta wear to the door.”

Eleanor smiles at her father, then looks to Sinclair, raising an eyebrow.

“Speaking of which, Augustus - aren’t you going to dress up as well…?” she asks, looking him up and down, in his usual attire. “It’s well into the night for you to be without your costume.”

“I’m as dressed as I’m gonna be, honey,” Sinclair replies bluntly, “as a businessman who doesn’t do Halloween.”

Eleanor gives an exasperated scoff while Delta lets out a long note that decreases in volume as it goes and sounds something like booing, giving Sinclair a little nudge in his own way of telling him not to be boring.

Sinclair holds up his hands. “Now, don’t give me that - I told you both from the start: I don’t do Halloween. Only reason I opened the gates at all this year was cause we wanted ta test if your daddy could get away with showin’ himself tonight. That’s it. I just don’t partake in the tradition.”

Delta lets out a huff that echoes in his helmet, and Sinclair looks up at him with mock offence.

“Why, I just went an’ spoke your words for you, chief, an’ this is how I’m repaid? Heartless of you.”

Delta repeats the huff.

“Downright shameful,” Sinclair says, then looks to Eleanor as she giggles. “You gonna be headin’ out soon?”

Eleanor grins excitedly at him.

Couple days ago, she comes to he and Delta in the evening, while Delta’s watching television on the floor and Sinclair’s reading the newspaper, and requests their attention in that tone that let them know that she - as a teenaged girl - was about to ask for something. Delta’s attention was on her in a second, and Sinclair looked at her over the tops of his glasses, otherwise not moving from the pose he’d been in when she interrupted his reading.

She’d nervously shuffled on the spot, then said, “My friends from school have invited me to a Halloween party. May I go?”

The two of them had looked at each other, then fired off a few questions, like where the party is (across town, at a friend’s house) and who will be there (only people from school). She’s spent time around her chums outside of school hours before, though never late into the evening, and parties are a different deal altogether. Lots of things can happen at parties with teenagers - especially to someone who’s never been to one before - so they (mostly Delta) had been wary.

But…she’d looked so hopeful, and part of the whole reason of coming to the surface was so Eleanor could be free to be a normal teenager, so…they’d said yes, and she’d been so excited, she’d physically jumped for joy and then gave them both hugs, exclaiming a flurry of thank yous before requesting to use the phone to call her friends and tell them she’s coming to the party.

“I think so,” Eleanor tells him, her hug on her helmet growing tighter as she gets more and more eager to go.

“An’ you’re sure you don’t want me ta drive you over there?” Sinclair asks. “It’s quite a walk, across town.”

“No, it’s alright. I’d prefer to walk - then I get to see how everybody else is celebrating.” She looks towards Delta. “And besides, you ought to stay here, in case any more trick-or-treaters come by, then you’ll have to translate for Father again.”

Delta gives a dismissive wave of the hand and mimes that he could write things down instead.

Eleanor’s smile twists at the end, growing awkward.

“There is no pen in this house that you could hold successfully, Father,” she says, to which he gives an admitting grunt, shoulders drooping slightly. “I’ll be fine, though. I promise.”

She takes a deep breath, nerves joining her excitement in a cocktail that makes her tummy flip. It’s the same way she’d felt when going to school for the first time, and Sinclair had had to give her a pep talk in the car.

“Alright,” she says with a determined nod, “here I go.”

Eleanor starts to go toward the double doors - only for Delta to slide into place in front of them to block her path, folding his arms.

From the knot his arms make, his index finger extends and wags at her, while he lets out a rhythmic set of noises that sound like the traditional “Ah, ah, ahh.”

Eyes wide, Eleanor’s excitement turns into confusion, face falling, then looks at Sinclair as he steps up beside Delta to block the doors as well, arms also folded and expression looking more stern than it had a second ago.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he says, “but I reckon the big fella wants ta hear the rules we set, just one last time ‘fore you go.”

Delta grunts in confirmation.

“Wouldn’t mind hearin’ ‘em for myself, if I’m ta be honest,” Sinclair adds.

Relenting and understanding, Eleanor smiles to herself and holds her helmet by her waist as she threads her fingers together underneath it, in lieu of humbly putting her hands together like a schoolchild.

“I have to be home by ten o’clock - at the latest - and not a second more. Otherwise, you’ll come looking for me - and you’ll embarrass me in front of my friends, for added measure. You would prefer that I stay at the site of the party, but if I do happen to leave the area for any reason, I’m to tell you once I get home. If I do go somewhere else and you find out about it, I will be grounded for anywhere from two weeks to a month, depending on other factors of the situation. As I’m not legally allowed to drink alcohol, I’m not to have any at the party. If I feel that I need to call you to come and collect me, I should. I’m also to be careful not to use any of my Plasmids or other ADAM-related abilities. Oh - and if anybody asks, I’ve come dressed as a haunted diving suit, and you paid for my costume.”

Sinclair - who’s been holding up his hands this whole time, lifting fingers to count off every rule Eleanor mentions - pointedly wiggles the next finger on his second hand to indicate a missing rule.

“And…?” he says.

Eleanor suppresses a laugh, barely managing to not grin as she says amusedly, “And absolutely no -” she gives a little snort, covers her nose and mouth with one hand, then drops it to finish her sentence “- ‘canoodling’ with any boys. Or girls, for that matter.”

Delta gives a very huffy little grunt of confirmation; clearly, to him, that’s the most serious rule of the lot.

“And what do we do if someone we don’t like keeps botherin’ us after we’ve told ‘em ta scram?” Sinclair asks.

Eleanor’s smile drops as she becomes more serious.

“I’m to deliver a kick between their legs and make it clear that they were disturbing me and not the other way around, just in case they try to lie about it to others.”

“That’s right.” Sinclair nods. “Now, there’s one last rule you forgot ta mention.”

Mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape, Eleanor looks confused, looking away as she ponders it, then her expression scrunches up as she looks back at him, silently asking what she could have possibly forgotten when she’s certain she’s said everything.

Sinclair’s stern expression gives way to a smile as he and Delta step aside and gesture to the doors in nearly perfect unison.

“Go an’ enjoy yourself,” he says.

Eleanor immediately brightens up, grinning wide, and rushes over to throw her arms around him.

He lets out a little “Oof!” since she’d practically barreled into him, making him take a step back and, still unused to physical affection that isn’t coming from Delta, Sinclair stiffens up immediately and winces. But then he slowly puts his hands on her back to loosely hug her in return, smiling awkwardly.

Grinning still, Eleanor pulls back and then runs to Delta, who is much more receptive to a hug from her; she practically leaps at him to hug his torso the best she can, and he’s all too happy to catch her and hug her close, crooning gently.

“I’ll see you later, Father,” Eleanor says warmly.

Delta strokes a hand over her hair, warbling softly to her, before he lets her go and watches as she excitedly hurries to the doors, practically bouncing, and gives them one last grin before taking another deep breath.

“Now,” she says, “here I go.”

And she opens the leftmost door and disappears through it, out into the Halloween air.

Delta goes to the window, pressing his hands to the glass, to watch her skip down the path and exit through the front gates. He keeps watching until he can’t see her anymore, stands there a little longer in case she comes back, then he sighs softly and comes away.

“She gone now?” Sinclair asks.

Shoulders drooped sadly, Delta grunts a yes.

“D’aww,” Sinclair cocks his head, looking up at Delta with a sympathetic smile, “chin up, now, kid. She’ll only be gone for a few hours, then she’ll come rushin’ back home ta tell us all about it. She’s not leavin’ the nest forever just yet.”

The thought of that happening makes Delta’s heart hurt worse than it did when separated from Eleanor down in Rapture, but he supposes Sinclair’s right. Just a few hours - Eleanor can handle herself for that long. She fought an army of Splicers alongside him down in Persephone, she can handle interacting with kids her own age at a party.

(Hopefully…He’s prepared to go racing across town if she decides she needs him.)

“I know it’s worry-makin’, her bein’ out in the dark like that, but you oughta get used to the idea, chief,” Sinclair adds. “She’s a teenager now, an’ this is what teenagers do. She ain’t gonna wanna spend every wakin’ moment with old men like us (presumably, in your case) anymore.”

Delta lets out a gasp, then his shoulders droop even more and he lets out a low, depressed moan.

“Oh - Oh, now, that ain’t what I meant, sugar.”

Sinclair goes over to put his hands on Delta’s chest, looking up at him with his brow furrowed.

“Now, that girl adores you, an’ you know that. But you understand, kid, that it’s good for her ta be spendin’ time around folks her own age, don’tcha? I dunno ‘bout you, but,” he gives a puff of a laugh, “I can’t relate to what young people are goin’ on about these days. Besides, you don’t wanna find yourself becomin’ another Doc Lamb an’ restrictin’ her on her comings and goings, now do ya?”

Delta lets out another puff of a gasp, straightening up a little.

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, he’d never hold Eleanor prisoner like that - his worries are his worries, and he won’t allow them to affect his parenting - but he also doesn’t want her to be under the impression that she has to stay home for his sake. He can relate, after all, to her desire to see the outside and not be cooped up in here, lovely and spacious as the house is. He is happy she’s made friends and wants to spend time with them, he is, it’s just…well, he’d missed so much time with her when he’d been dead. Makes him want to spend as much time with her as possible.

But Augustus is right - she has her own life, and it is a good thing that she’s spending time with people who aren’t decades her senior. He gets to spend time with her when she’s home, anyway, and none of her friends can say they get to spend that much time with her, in retrospect.

“Plus,” Sinclair says, reaching for Delta’s hand to hold it, “the time she spends outta the house is time you an’ I get by our lonesome, and I should hope that doesn’t sound like such a bad plan, now, does it?”

Delta straightens, briefly worried he’d implied he wouldn’t like that, then his shoulders lift happily as he pulls his hand from Sinclair’s grasp and uses it to cup the side of his face, rumbling softly enough that it could be mistaken for a purr.

Sinclair smiles up at him and places his hand over Delta’s, nuzzling his glove as he says, “Precisely, pumpkin pie. Y’see? It’s a win-win situation, when ya tilt it on its head.”

His smile becomes a smirk.

“Though, while we’re on the topic of romancin’...there might soon be somethin’ else you should quickly get used to, chief.”

Delta tilts at the waist, curious.

“You know it an’ I know it,” Sinclair points towards the doors to gesture to Eleanor, “that there may come a time when Eleanor starts mentionin’ some boy she wants us ta get acquainted with (or some other young lady cause - heh - we ain’t ones ta judge), and you’re gonna hafta act as though you don’t wanna toss that poor thing through an upstairs window.”

Delta lets out a little gasp, then immediately growls, his free hand curling into a fist.

“Ha ha!” Sinclair barks. “Well, now, I was just messin’ with ya, but - you’re really gonna prove yourself as one of those fathers, are ya? Shall I…fetch one of your old shotgun shells so’s you can scratch her sweetheart’s name into it and you can show it to ‘em as a warnin’?”

No, no, he won’t do anything like that. He…understands that Eleanor will start to get…interested in people her age, like how he and Augustus are interested in each other, and he’s…fine with it. He is. It’s normal, it’s a regular part of life, he’s fine with it.

And he won’t deny the person entrance to their home, should Eleanor wish to introduce them to he and Augustus - he’ll just take them aside and ask for every detail of their life that he dubs important (like their hobbies and if they have a criminal record and if they’ve ever wanted a criminal record, and what their intentions are toward his daughter, stuff like that) and then watch them like a hawk for the entire time they’re on the property, in case of any canoodling.

And if they dare to try canoodling with his daughter whilst they’re in his home - why, then he’ll throw them out the (downstairs) window!

(Or, in the very least, make them think he’s going to, since Eleanor would never forgive him if he harmed her…person of interest like that.)

Delta lets out a low huff, displeased, and Sinclair titters.

“Not sure if I’m lookin’ forward to that day or not, now,” he says as he rubs his chin and averts his gaze thoughtfully, then cocks his head and gives Delta a smile. “But how ‘bout for now, sugar, we put the focus on our own whirlwind of a courtship right here, ‘stead of focusin’ on hypotheticals?”

He gives Delta a wink, and Delta perks back up, warbling so delightedly that one might picture cartoon hearts floating about his head.

“You’re speakin’ my thoughts exactly, pumpkin,” Sinclair replies, then starts to tug Delta’s hand toward the living room. “Now, c’mon, let’s see if we can find some flicks on the picturebox or somethin’. Might be that that show you like is on - what was it called, now? The Addams Family?”

Delta grunts to let Sinclair know he’s correct.

“That’s the one. If it ain’t, then we might hafta settle for somethin’ a little scarier, par the course for the holiday. And if that’s the case, then you better make sure you hold me tight, honey,” he cups his own cheek, face creasing up in fake worry, and adds a little more drama to his tone, “cause I might get scared an’ need someone ta bat away the danger. Reckon you could do that for me?”

Delta chuckles, then bypasses Sinclair to sit in his usual spot on the floor, between the couch and the television. He spreads his legs and pats the spot between them to offer it to Augustus.

“Seems like you’re capable,” Sinclair says, then takes Delta’s offer and sits down on the floor between his legs.

Tilting forwards, Delta wraps both arms around him to hold him close, making sure not to lean on him too much lest he hurt Sinclair’s back, then lets out a contented sigh.

“Snug as a bug,” Sinclair says in agreement. “I couldn’t be safer if I tried my hardest.”

He looks over his shoulder to give Delta a smile.

“Happy Halloween, chief - I’m glad this holiday’s worked out so well for ya.”

Delta gives a delighted note of whalesong, sending vibrations through Sinclair’s back, and then reaches over and picks up the remote from where it lays near his thigh. He holds it out to Augustus, who takes it with a thanks.

“Now,” he says, then points the remote at the TV, “let’s see what’s on tonight.”

#My writing #BioShock #BioShock 2 #biofluff 2023 #biofluff #Subject Delta #Augustus Sinclair #Eleanor Lamb #Deltaclair #Topclair

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